


I'm still here hoping that one day you may come back

by Someonewhosfunny



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Businessman Iker, Heartbreak, M/M, Post-Break Up, Self-Reflection, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someonewhosfunny/pseuds/Someonewhosfunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to let go when you can't imagine spending your life with anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm still here hoping that one day you may come back

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this written for years and it holds a very special place in my heart. I am constantly editing this, but I think it's finally done. It's a bit short and sort of vague. I have dabbled in writing their backstory a few times so we'll see. Maybe I'll write that up and post it too. Anyway, enjoy!

He was walking down the cobblestone path, trying to hide his eyes from the people passing by. The rain cast a melancholy spell on the West London village, but the young man embraced it. He was glad for the cover of umbrellas and jacket collars. The sun, with its beautiful rays that shone down on his home back in Spain, was too revealing. He came here to hide under the clouds and the gloom. London was almost as cold as his heart and it didn’t try to pry into his soul the way that Spain did.

It was his third month here and he still missed his family more than anything. He called his mother constantly, but he missed the sight of her kind and gentle face. He craved the taste of her paella and the smell of her garden. The sound of his younger sister’s laughter rung through his ears and sometimes he swore he could hear the deep rumble of his father’s voice in a crowd. He missed the face of his best friend, Gerard. But he couldn’t go back home. He couldn’t _breathe_ there.

Anyway, he was settled here, as much as he could be. He found a promising job at the most prestigious BBC property, The Broadcasting House, located right in the middle of London. Yes, he was still taking coffee orders and making copies, but it provided a constant income. He needed every pound in order to afford his flat in the city, even if it was the size of a shoe box. That didn’t really matter, though; he never had any company. It was just him here in this lonely and slightly miserable country. All because he was too caught up, too devastatingly in love with his ex, to function properly. And he was a coward.

Because who fucking moved out of the country because of a lost love? Even if that said lost love was the only person in the world who ever truly understood Cesc. Even if the thought of being without that person physically hurt. No matter what the circumstances, it was just pathetic. And stupid, because Iker wasn’t even in Spain anymore. He was in the states, or at least he had been three months ago when Cesc had seen it printed in a newspaper.

_Madrid born young man reaches the highest accomplishment: Iker Casillas appointed CEO of multi-billion dollar International Business Machines (IBM)._

Reading his name was like a punch in the gut, but there was also comfort in the news. Cesc knew that Iker would make it big one day. He was driven, intelligent, and always professional. He knew how business worked and he knew how to get what he wanted. Iker was nothing if not efficient. That’s probably why he couldn’t stand to be with Cesc. Iker was four years older and so much wiser. Cesc had tried to grow up for him, but sadly, it wasn’t in his nature. He was messy, disorganized, and a bit careless. Cesc would rather play a pickup game in the back of the office or shoot scrap paper balls into the garbage can of the break room than crunch numbers all day. But he was content with the person he was. Gerard always said he was unapologetically himself, which was true. He wasn’t going to change or conform to other’s ideas of what was right or wrong. Still, just because he was okay with being who he was didn’t stop the occasional over dramatic self-loathing sessions that usually started with “ _man I really suck at painting_ ” or something equally as trivial and finished with “ _no one in the world will ever love me_.”

It didn’t really matter who loved him, though, because if it wasn’t Iker, Cesc wasn’t really interested. Being with Iker was like living on a different planet. When they finally got together, Cesc felt like new person. Suddenly, everything just made sense. He felt like he was on top of the world, capable of anything he put his mind to. It felt like, if he had Iker by his side, nothing would ever be that bad. Yeah, there were negative parts of their relationship, like the fighting and the tears, but Iker made him want to be a better person, the best person. All he wanted was to make him happy. Iker’s love sometimes destroyed him, but it was worth it. And in any event, loving him was far out of Cesc’s control.

Somewhere along the lines, his soul had taken up residence in Iker’s heart. Cesc didn’t know how it happened, but an intrinsic part of who he was took root and grew so deeply into Iker that it was impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Cesc had forgotten how to stand on his own. When Iker left, he felt like the entire world was flipped. He couldn’t imagine a reality in which it wasn’t the two of them together. That’s where he felt most safe; that’s where he thrived. With Iker gone, Cesc didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere in this world. He could move to a million different cities, but none of them would ever feel like home. Foolishly, when he was younger and way too idealistic, he’d made his home inside a person, and that was somewhere that he could never go back.

But sometimes he tried and in a moment of weakness, Cesc called the number he forbade himself from ever calling again. When there was no answer, he left a voicemail with shaking hands and a sheen of cold sweat covering his body.

_Hey Iker. I just wanted to congratulate you on your promotion. I know it’s a little late and this call is kinda random, but I’m happy for you. Really. And I miss you. I hope you’re doing well._

And after half a beat, one that might cause Iker to hang up before hearing the rest, he continued.

_I’m still so in love with you._

And when Iker heard that message half way across the world, while standing on the balcony of his Malibu vacation home, he didn’t hang up. But a gentle, tattooed arm snaking around his bare waist kept him from returning the call. He tossed his phone onto the nearest chaise, quickly forgetting it as he brushed sandy hair out of his husband's eyes. The ring adorning his finger caught the sunlight and blinded him to everything but this.

There was sure to be heartbreak back in London.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
